


The Midnight Game

by NatRoze



Series: Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Apparently this is Real Spooky so i guess if you scare easy read with the lights on, Canon Compliant, Canon Compliant Paranormal, Daichi: there are no such thing as ghosts, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Oikawa: ghosts are real and i'm moving to mars because of it, Ushijima: Ghosts are real best to accept it and learn to move on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8120080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatRoze/pseuds/NatRoze
Summary: Daichi has absolutely zero “experience with the paranormal.” Not an ounce of it. His family is possibly the least superstitious he knows. He is a logical, scientifically-minded young man, and he operates on a principle of “If I haven’t seen proof of it myself, I don’t believe in it.” The spookiest thing he’s ever dealt with is seeing Asahi with his hair down for the first time. He honestly should have turned down Ushijima’s request for help.ORThe one where Ushijima, Daichi, and Oikawa go running around hunting ghosts at night in the spooky woods behind Shiratorizawa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by me reading Furudate's OTHER manga, "Kiben Gakuha, Yotsuya-senpai no Kaidan," which is a horror manga that technically takes place in the same 'verse as Haikyuu (the protagonist is the younger sister of Wakunan's captain). And they never said ghosts DIDN'T exist. I took that and ran with it as far as feasibly possible. Because who DOESN'T want more canon-compliant paranormal horror? I want more. I really really really want more.
> 
> Also I wasn't sure how to tag it but there's some in-POV supernaturally-induced panic attack/dissociation moments in this fic that are pretty plot-intrinsic, just in case that's something you're not comfortable with.
> 
> Many thanks to Betsy for betaing, Amber for MUCH YELLING, and a deep apology to Elizabeth for sending her a half-finished version asking "is this actually scary" and her sending me back a response like "i'm crying rn"
> 
> Anyway, here's spookyfic

There’s something to be said for brutal honesty, thinks Sawamura Daichi. During the few instances in which he’s spoken with Ushijima Wakatoshi, “brutally honest” is the most lasting impression he’s formed, and in a way he appreciates that about him. It’s a bit jarring, certainly, but at least it leaves no doubt in his mind about what Ushijima thinks of him or the situation at hand.

The first time they met, at nationals preliminaries, Ushijima gave Daichi a firm and sincere “Good luck” over their captains’ handshake, followed by a definitive “We are going to win.” No two ways about it, like it was just as much a fact as the sky being blue.

Shiratorizawa hadn’t won, but that’s beside the point. Ushijima had been honest about his intentions, and honesty is something Daichi values. It’s reassuring.

After that, they’d met once or twice more: Daichi had shown up on Shiratorizawa’s campus to apologize profusely for Hinata inviting himself to a training camp without warning, ran into Ushijima, and Ushijima had insisted on setting up a practice match.

“You’ll be steamrolled at nationals,” he’d said quite earnestly, with one broad hand on Daichi’s shoulder. The height difference was startling in this close proximity, and the hand distracting and very warm. “Allow us to give you some advice in advance, since we’ve played at nationals before.”

Predictably, the practice match was messy and uncomfortable and incredibly challenging (especially because Hinata, Kageyama, and Tsukishima weren’t present for it). Nishinoya got knocked off the court trying to receive one of Shiratorizawa’s pinch server’s serves, and Suga spent the majority of the match grinning murderously at their terrifying red-haired middle blocker. Daichi paid too close attention to Ushijima’s thigh muscles the entire time he was outlining the strengths and weaknesses of everyone Shiratorizawa had played at nationals in previous years, but nobody besides Suga and Asahi noticed, so that was alright.

“I believe your team may have potential to make it through the first rounds,” Ushijima had admitted, honest as ever. It was high praise, coming from him. “Because you’re unpredictable and none of them will see it coming,” he added, and Daichi laughed and shrugged, but Ushijima smiled, and that was honest too. It also ruined Daichi's life just a little, that smile. Nobody should have the right to be over six feet tall and that damn precious.

It is hardly weeks before graduation when Daichi meets Ushijima again, in the supermarket of all places. Daichi is ambling down the aisles with his basket, dutifully collecting everything on his mother’s list, when Ushijima Wakatoshi crosses his line of vision. Aside from the surprise of seeing Ushijima off the court and out of uniform (he’s wearing dark grey sweats and a Shiratorizawa track jacket, Daichi notes), there should be nothing particularly special about seeing Ushijima in the supermarket. They live in the same city, after all. Hinata and Kageyama had accidentally run to Shiratorizawa’s neighborhood without much effort. There should be no reason why Ushijima Wakatoshi _shouldn’t_ be in Daichi’s local supermarket on a Saturday.

But Daichi, having spent as much time as he has honing his Shenanigans Radar with Nishinoya, Tanaka, Hinata, and Kageyama, recognizes an imminent double-take when one is about to happen. So it shouldn’t surprise him when he looks back at Ushijima Wakatoshi and confirms that yes, in fact, the only things in his shopping basket are a large container of salt, a bag of some kind of herbs or leaves, and what must be at least a liter of lighter fluid.

 _Ping, ping,_ goes the Shenanigans Radar. Daichi pinches the bridge of his nose.

As subtly as possible, Daichi weaves through the supermarket and not-so-coincidentally gets himself in the same aisle as Ushijima. Conveniently, Daichi’s mother put sponges on the list, and this is the aisle with the kitchen utilities. He pretends picking up new sponges is the only reason he’s there before “noticing” Ushijima and turning to greet him.

“Hi, Ushijima,” he says casually. Ushijima looks up from where he’s contemplating the merits of different brands of matches and stares at him, expression impenetrable.

“Sawamura Daichi,” Ushijima says with a nod. Daichi always finds himself pleasantly surprised that Ushijima remembers his full name, even if it is a little strange to be greeted with the entirety of it every time.

“What’s up?” Daichi asks, trying very hard not to stare at the many bottles of lighter fluid stacked in Ushijima’s shopping basket.

True to unquestioningly honest form, Ushijima answers: “I am preparing for a ghost hunt. How are you?” and it takes everything in his power for Daichi not to break his poker face.

Stranger things have happened to him than this. Last summer, Nishinoya and Tanaka accidentally stole a dog they thought was a stray. Tsukishima came to school with a sore throat a month ago and Hinata took it upon himself to “interpret” for him while he was unable to speak. Suga was put in charge of buying training camp snacks in their first year and came back with a mountain of extra-spicy wasabi peas and nothing else. Stranger things have happened than Ushijima Wakatoshi preparing to hunt ghosts. Right?

“Do you have experience with the paranormal?” Ushijima continues. “I could use some help.”

Daichi stares. Ushijima smiles hopefully.

There are some people who never smile and probably never should (Kageyama Tobio), there are some who smile far too much (Kuroo Tetsurou), but there are some who you would do anything just to see it once. Unfortunately for Daichi, Ushijima is one of the latter. “Let me just, uh. Deal with the groceries first,” Daichi stutters, and his heart stutters too.

In the back of his mind, the Shenanigans Radar pings joyfully.

         

   

An hour later, after Daichi has gone home and put away all the groceries in the refrigerator, he finds himself back in town at the quaint neighborhood café down the block from the supermarket. Ushijima had asked to meet him here in – Daichi checks his watch – about six minutes. He’s not one to back out on an invitation, no matter how bizarre. Getting asked to go out for coffee by Ushijima Wakatoshi, who wants to tell him an apparently-true ghost story and ask for his advice on it, is certainly on the more bizarre end.

Daichi has absolutely zero “experience with the paranormal.” Not an _ounce_ of it. His family is possibly the least superstitious he knows. He is a logical, scientifically-minded young man, and he operates on a principle of “If I haven’t seen proof of it myself, I don’t believe in it.” The spookiest thing he’s ever dealt with is seeing Asahi with his hair down for the first time. He honestly should have turned down Ushijima’s request for help. He _should_ have. But that _smile,_ dear _god_.

So he’s about to be on what could pass as a coffee date with Ushijima Wakatoshi, were it not supernaturally inspired. Stranger things have happened, he reminds himself yet again. His innate sense of “shenanigans are imminent” still won’t go away though, even as he enters the café and orders himself a mocha. He feels like Obi-Wan in _Star Wars;_ as if his speaking aloud that he “has a bad feeling about this” will trigger everything that could possibly go wrong to all go wrong at once. Nonetheless he firmly turns his back on Murphy’s Law and, drink in hand, he finds himself a two-person table away from the window. If they’re going to look like they’re on a coffee date, they’re at least going to look like they’re on a coffee date without the risk of someone they know walking by on the sidewalk and goggling in at them.

The bell on the café door jingles, and Ushijima walks in right on time. His punctuality pleases Daichi. The fact that he has a rather irritated Oikawa Tooru in tow, not so much. The Shenanigans Radar pings fervently in the back of Daichi’s mind as Ushijima crosses the cafe and seats himself across from Daichi. He’s still got the bag from the supermarket, which, by the end of the trip, had also included several boxes of matches, a large bottle of sparkling water, and a handful of flares. None of these had assuaged any of Daichi’s concern, nor does the addition of a small shovel sticking out of the bag.

 _Ping, ping._ Daichi wants to go home.

“Hello again,” says Ushijima.

“Hi yourself. Uh,” Daichi pauses, and the pair of them turn in tandem to watch Oikawa deliver the most complicated coffee order known to man at the cashier. Daichi cocks his head in Oikawa’s direction with a quizzical look on his face. He’s not sure whether he’s questioning Oikawa’s presence on the whole, or the fact that his matching white skinny jeans and white sweatshirt are blinding the whole coffee shop.

“He’s helping out too,” says Ushijima, clarifying practically nothing. Daichi’s eyebrows knit together, and he nods sternly. Of course. Things already make little enough sense. Oikawa’s additional presence is arguably one of the less weird aspects of the afternoon.

It’s no secret to the entire Miyagi high school volleyball community (and even some people outside it) how Oikawa feels about Ushijima. The majority of Karasuno had caught onto it at nationals preliminaries, and Kageyama had explained in intense detail the depths of Ushijima and Oikawa’s rivalry. Daichi wonders how much Oikawa had to be bribed for… whatever it is he’s here for. Maybe Ushijima’s paying for his Venti… dear god, what _is_ that?

Oikawa collects his Venti Diabetes and a pastry on a dainty plate, grabs a third chair from an unoccupied table, and swings it over to sit at the side of the table between Daichi and Ushijima. He forces a smile as he greets Daichi with a handshake and a “Long time no see, Sawamura.”

“True that,” agrees Daichi. Now that he can see the front of Oikawa’s sweatshirt, he’s having trouble not staring at the text on it, which reads _I’M SO FUCKING FUTURE_. The bad English grammar offends Daichi’s sensibilities. Unfortunately Oikawa’s somehow pulling off the look. This manages to offend Daichi’s sensibilities even more. “Remind me why we’re gathered here today?”

“Ushiwaka-chan says his school is haunted,” Oikawa sneers, “and he thinks for some bizarre reason I want to discuss that with him.” He jams a straw straight into the pile of whipped cream atop his Venti Cavities and slurps it as loud as he can on purpose, all while refusing to break eye contact with Ushijima. Daichi cringes. Ushijima, unfazed, leans toward Oikawa with a stern look on his face.

“I have done my research and several people online agree that many UFO sightings could actually be the result of paranormal activity,” says Ushijima. “Or vice versa.”

The context of this is entirely lost on Daichi until Oikawa detaches himself from the straw to retort, “Look, just because I had a _thing_ about aliens in middle school – which by the way, _how_ do you know about that – does not mean I want _anything_ to do with-”

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet,” Daichi says to Ushijima. Oikawa has the gall to look affronted at the interruption.  Daichi, meanwhile, tries hard not to smirk at the mental image of a young Oikawa raving about aliens. There’s something viscerally pleasing about imagining Oikawa pointing dramatically at the sky, shouting “The truth is out there, Tobio-chan!” while an even younger Kageyama boggles at him. “No, seriously. What are we doing here?”

“ _I’m_ here because he’s paying for my order, and this place has the best milk bread in town,” admits Oikawa, entirely shamelessly. “Soon as I finish my triple venti half-sweet non-fat caramel macchiato, I’m outta here.”

Daichi stares in consternation at the _Triple_ Venti Fuckall and wonders how much caffeine it would take to kill a man Oikawa’s size. Ushijima, ever-resolute, says, “No, you’re not. We made a deal.”

“I am not helping you solve the frickin’ _Seven Mysteries of Shiratorizawa_.”

“Okay, full stop,” Daichi interjects. Oikawa huffs at him for interrupting again, but he can’t really make himself care, no matter how cute the pouting is. The antics have gone on long enough. “Ushijima, _what_ is going on?”

Ushijima at least has the decency to look a little bit sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck and then clasps his hands together on the table like a teacher about to deliver the news of bad grades. Daichi reflexively braces himself. “Well, as I explained earlier in the supermarket,” he says, “I am hunting a supernatural entity and/or entities, and would appreciate help.”

“I already told you to ask your teammates, and that I want nothing to do with this,” Oikawa scoffs. Ushijima purses his lips tightly. Daichi frowns; Oikawa could stand to be at least marginally polite to Ushijima in public.

“Most of them don’t believe me,” Ushijima admits gloomily.

“Neither will I,” Daichi mutters under his breath, but Oikawa hears him anyway and swings his hand out to gesture at Daichi as if saying _see?_  “Most of them?”

“Well, Goshiki does, of course, but he is not coming with me because I refuse to put my underclassmen in danger. And Satori would have – Tendou Satori, one of the middle blockers on my team,” he clarifies; Oikawa and Daichi both cringe a little bit at the memory of Tendou’s manic grins and terrifying guess blocking skill.

“Then ask him,” Oikawa insists around a mouthful of melon bread. Daichi considers quite heavily the word _danger_ in Ushijima’s explanation. Exactly how much danger does one find themselves in when investigating something that doesn’t exist?

“I can’t.” Ushijima sighs and puts his head in his hands. “As you know, many of Shiratorizawa’s students live in dorms, and the other night-”

“You have _dorms_?” Daichi interrupts. “Sorry. Keep going.”

“Right, well. We were telling ghost stories the other night, and Satori and I were sent outside to the woods on a dare, and, well.” Ushijima pauses, fidgets a little with the collar of his track jacket. “Well, Satori sort of… Vanished.”

“Vanished,” repeats Daichi, frowning.

“That is what I said.” Ushijima nods. “Satori vanished, and hasn’t been to school in the two days since, and we can’t find him. So I began to do further research on the urban legends and ghost stories both at Shiratorizawa and in the surrounding area. I have done my research quite well,” he says, and Daichi gapes as Ushijima reaches into his shopping bag and produces an entire manila folder full of newspaper clippings and printed articles. He hands the first one off the top of the stack to Daichi; the title of the article is _Paranormal Occurrences in Miyagi Prefecture_.

As Daichi scans the article, Oikawa seems to suddenly gain interest and interrogates Ushijima about Tendou’s disappearance.

 

“You’re sure he didn’t just go back to his room without you?”

“He hasn’t been to school since that night, and his room is empty.”

“Maybe he went home to see his parents.”

“There is already a missing person report filed,” says Ushijima, and Daichi’s head snaps back up.

“Wait, hang _on_. Your friend is literally missing?”

Ushijima inhales sharply and steeples his fingers on the table. “That _is_ what I’ve been saying. The police don’t believe me when I say I was with him right up until he vanished. They think I’m rationalizing it illogically because I don’t want to believe he was kidnapped or ran away.” Ushijima hesitates, as if unsure whether he should actually continue with what he was saying. Oikawa shoots Daichi a skeptical glance. Daichi frowns back.

“You were with him _literally_ right up until he vanished?” Daichi prompts. Ushijima sighs heavily and nods.

“ _Literally_ literally? Like you _saw_ him vanish.” Ushijima nods again. Daichi’s heart aches in sympathy; whatever actually occurred, Ushijima's close friend has gone missing and he was unable to prevent it. That's horrible to have to live with.

“I think this is a case of _kamikakushi_ ,” he admits.

“You think your teammate was _spirited away_ ,” Oikawa confirms. Daichi catches him fidgeting uncomfortably with the straw in his Venti Disaster. “Did you seriously _see_ it happen?”

Ushijima nods again, slow and solemn. Daichi feels an inexplicable chill run down his spine.

“And is there… a particular reason you’re asking _us_?” Daichi wonders. “Besides that your teammates don’t believe you. Wait, are they not concerned about Tendou-kun?”

“They’re plenty concerned,” Ushijima sighs. “But Satori’s skipped school before. The difference is, when he does, he hides out in our teammate Semi’s room, and this time he is not there. Semi believes me,” Ushijima adds. “But they refuse to come with me. They are uncomfortable with the paranormal. And Goshiki believes me, but as he is a first-year, I refuse to be responsible for putting him in danger, as I said.

“I knew Oikawa had at least some experience in the area of extranormal happenings,” Ushijima explains, “which is why I asked him.” To Oikawa – who by now is looking downright appalled at the suggestion that he’s an authority on the subject of the supernatural – he says, “I happened to meet up with Sawamura in the supermarket. As he is one of the most level-headed individuals I have ever met, I figured he would be a reassurance if he came with me.”

While it is certainly flattering to be praised by Ushijima, Daichi pretends the prideful warmth that shudders through his chest has nothing to do with his decision to rest a hand on Ushijima’s arm. “We’ll help,” he says.

“What’s this _we_ ? I already said I don’t want anything to do with this,” Oikawa snaps, and immediately Daichi is reeling. _Why did I say that?!_ he boggles at himself. _What the hell did I just sign on for? Why did I sign_ Oikawa _on for it too?_ In all probability, there’s no paranormal anything occurring, and the far-more-likely reality is that some kidnapper is prowling the neighborhood around Shiratorizawa Academy. This is a job for the police, and the police have already been notified. This is not for three high school volleyball captains to be poking their noses into with flashlights and…and salt and whatever all else Ushijima brought for hunting ghosts with.

Over the course of the next thirty seconds, while Oikawa pitches a minor fit and Ushijima tries to show him photocopied articles on local _yokai_ , Daichi considers that it may actually be for the best that he’s not leaving Ushijima in the lurch. If he refused, the chances that Shiratorizawa’s headstrong and determined captain would just head off himself and possibly vanish like his friend are very high. At least with Daichi, even if Oikawa refuses to come in the end, he’ll have someone to watch his back.

But Ushijima and Tendou had been watching each other’s backs too, most likely.

“Oikawa,” says Daichi, and Oikawa’s mouth snaps shut on the tail end of a complaint. “Just one night.” He hopes the sharp look he’s giving Oikawa is enough to communicate that if they don’t go with him, it will likely end up on both their heads if Ushijima’s body winds up in a nearby river later in the week. That kind of thing just doesn’t look good to college volleyball recruiters.

“If this takes longer than one night I’m leaving you two to the spooky scary skeletons,” Oikawa teases none-too-gently. But at least it’s an agreement.

Ushijima gives them both the address of Shiratorizawa’s campus, as well as a list of supplies he thinks they might each need – flashlights, rope, paper, a handful of other things – and leaves to go prepare immediately after paying for Oikawa’s Triple Venti Nightmare. As soon as he’s out the door of the café, the bell on the handle ringing cheerfully in his wake, Oikawa rounds on Daich, irritation threatening to mar his pretty face. Before he can get a single word out, Daichi throws a hand up between them.

“He’s gonna get himself hurt if we don’t go with him. Don’t blame me for signing you up when you were his first choice outside his team for who to trust.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“He has a lot of respect for you. If we have to talk him down from doing something nuts to save his friend, he’ll probably listen to you over me.”

Oikawa stares at Daichi, possibly in disbelief of the fact that Ushijima has respect for him, or maybe just at the fact that Daichi had the balls to chastise him. Eventually the blank stare morphs into a sneer, and Oikawa huffs out a “Whatever, Sawacchi.”

Daichi frowns at the bizarre nickname, but does nothing to stop it. He has a feeling it would be pointless to try. It’s probably just Oikawa’s weird way of establishing a basis of friendship. Or possibly conversational dominance. Maybe both.

Oikawa and Daichi exit the coffee shop and walk in tandem in the direction of the bus stop. Oikawa pouts, crosses his arms, scrunches up his nose in frustration and eventually sighs loudly. “Look, Sawacchi” he says, “Aliens _are_ out there somewhere, they might even be in disguise among us already. For all I know, you _are_ one. But that’s _completely_ separate from ghosts and yokai and things. The supernatural is _different._ ”

“Look, you don’t have to believe in ghosts,” replies Daichi, and Oikawa bites down on whatever else he was about to add. “But I’m not going to shit on Ushijima’s beliefs. If this is how he has to cope-”

“Have you ever _seen_ a ghost?”

“Have _you_ ever seen a UFO?” Daichi retaliates. Oikawa clamps his mouth shut and pouts again. Daichi is very annoyed with the fact that he still finds the pouting cute. They make it to the bus stop, and Oikawa stands a polite but definite distance away from Daichi with his arms crossed tight over his chest.

Just as Daichi’s bus pulls around the corner, Oikawa says, “What if it’s real?”

“What?”

“Ghosts. Yokai. The paranormal. Let’s just say – _hypothetically_ , mind you – we’re actually getting ourselves into something, y’know… Like, if we find Ushiwaka-chan’s teammate, I’ll probably be pretty relieved. If we don’t find _anything_ , I might not sleep well for a bit, but it’s not the end of my world either. If we… say we find out that Tendou-chan’s actually been _spirited away_ , Sawacchi… what would _you_ do if there were actually…” Oikawa trails off, eyes just a little bit wide. When Daichi doesn’t respond – how does one respond to that, anyway? Oikawa is questioning the non-existence of ghosts; that’s not a topic Daichi has any experience with – Oikawa recoils and waves him off with a forced half-smile. “Never mind. Forget about it.”

“Oikawa…”

“Forget about it,” Oikawa insists, and then the bus doors are opening and Daichi has to get on board and leave him behind.  He feels a little bad about leaving him there in the cloudy afternoon gloom, all alone at the side of the road. Daichi keeps an eye on Oikawa out the window of the bus for as long as he can. Just as the bus clears the hill at the end of the road, he thinks he sees a second figure standing by Oikawa at the bus stop, but when he blinks there’s nobody else there.

“Must be the conversation earlier messing with my head,” Daichi insists to himself. “That’s all.”

   

   

It is sunset when Daichi arrives at Shiratorizawa. As he steps down off of the bus, the world seems surreal and worn – everything is tinted a washed-out gold as the sun sets behind the clouds in the distance. The wheat and grasses whisper in the soft wind, and insects chirp out of sight. Shiratorizawa’s campus is far enough out of the urban part of town that it has the space to sprawl, long school buildings lining open courtyards, massive turf-coated sports fields right next to wide-open golden-tinged wheat fields blowing softly in the breeze.

Daichi treads carefully as he walks onto the campus, feeling just a little bit out of step with the rest of reality. It’s always eerie being at Karasuno after hours or on weekends, when nobody else is around, and Karasuno is more urban than this. Out here, nearer to the woods and the fields that stretch out as far as he can see, Daichi feels exposed and open.

He is very much alone, but he feels watched. It’s enough to make him shudder.

“Ushijima?” Daichi calls. His voice echoes in the empty space between the buildings. “Oikawa? Anyone else here yet?” He wanders further onto the campus while waiting for a response. The windows reflect sharply in the harsh evening light, and Daichi’s eyes are drawn to them as he walks further in. His imagination plays tricks on him, making him think there’s something moving in the gold-glowing reflection of the windowpanes, just at the edge of his line of sight. He stops a few times to see if there’s movement in the reflections besides his own, but there’s not, so he chalks it up to imagination and keeps moving.

He stops looking at the windows, though. Just in case. Not that he thinks anything’s there, but he wouldn’t like to find out that there _was_ either way.

Daichi isn’t _early_ , but he makes it all the way to the other end of campus without seeing Ushijima and Oikawa – or anyone else – anywhere. Around the back side of the campus Daichi finds a sprawling field of dried-brown tall grass, separated from the buildings by a chest-high wooden fence. On the other side of the fence and the field lies the woods, dark and arching into the edge of the sunset.

At the very edge of the woods, Daichi thinks he can see someone standing and staring back at him. It’s a fair bit of a distance away, but even from here Daichi thinks he can see the Shiratorizawa-purple of the figure’s clothes.

“Hey, Ushijima!” Daichi shouts across the field, because there shouldn’t be anyone else in Shiratorizawa colors here on a Saturday evening. He hoists himself up and over the fence and starts wading through the knee-high grass in the direction of the woods. Ushijima hadn’t said anything about meeting all the way out there; Daichi is sure he remembers them making a decision to wait at the campus gates until all three of them had arrived. But perhaps he remembers wrong.

Daichi is almost a third of the way across the field when he hears running footsteps, and then feels a hand on his shoulder. He whirls around fast enough that he gets whiplash and has to press a hand to the back of his neck. When he quits squinting in discomfort, he’s so startled to see Ushijima staring down at him that his heart skips unpleasantly. Oikawa is still trying to get over the fence without scuffing his white jeans. Realizing his hand is still raised from tapping Daichi on the shoulder, Ushijima lowers it slowly, and then reaches toward Daichi again in concern.

“Sawamura, where were you going?” he asks. Daichi stares at him. He points over his shoulder in the direction of the woods, mouth open to reply, but he pauses. It dawns on him that Ushijima is dressed in black; he’s no longer wearing his indicatively purple-and-white Shiratorizawa track jacket. Heart hammering in his chest, Daichi turns and surveys the treeline. All he sees at the other edge of the field is the dark gaps between the trees. There’s nobody in sight.

“I thought I saw-” he begins, but then shakes his head vigorously. _I thought I saw you standing down there already,_ he had begun to say, but first and foremost he’d only _assumed_ it was Ushijma. Second, it’s not like whoever was down there _disappeared_. Whoever had been standing at the edge of the woods must have simply walked deeper in, out of Daichi’s sight. That’s all there is to it.

Despite this, he feels dizzy. He’s not sure if he’s being fucked with or what, but it’s deeply unsettling. The back of his head tingles, like he’s still being watched. He tries to rationalize it with the knowledge that Ushijima is standing right behind him, but at the same time…

“Nope,” he mutters to himself. “No. No way.”

“Sawamura?” Ushijima calls. Daichi turns back. Oikawa’s joined them now, and is matching Ushijima’s concerned expression almost disturbingly well as he brushes dirt off his jeans.

“How’d you guys know I was over here?” Daichi asks, changing the subject. Ushijima clearly isn’t satisfied with it, but Oikawa starts talking before he has a chance to needle at Daichi.

“We heard you yell Ushiwaka-chan’s name,” says Oikawa. “There’s no way you can see the front gates from here, though; how’d you know-” Oikawa stops mid-sentence as Daichi holds up a hand.

“I think I need to sit down for a moment,” he says. Mind reeling and heart still jumping unpleasantly in his chest, Daichi shuffles back through the tall grass and sits down with his back up against the fence. Ushijima and Oikawa follow him back out; Oikawa stays standing but Ushijima crouches down next to Daichi and fixes him with a very serious look.

“Sawamura,” he begins, and Daichi groans.

“Look, I gotta ask – is anyone else supposed to be around campus tonight?”

“In the dorms, of course, but those are on the other side of campus. Here?” Ushijima furrows his brow. “I doubt it. Did you see somebody?”

“No,” Daichi lies.

“So you were just taking off into the middle of nowhere for funsies?” asks Oikawa. Daichi fixes him with a glare that could strip the paint off a wall. Oikawa must be used to having death glares levelled at him, however, because this doesn’t deter him in the slightest. “Look, I did some research before coming here – since there’s no way I’m going in unprepared to this, right – and one of the many common themes in paranormal encounters is apparitions of-”

A fresh wave of dizziness washes over Daichi. “Gonna stop you right there,” he says, and rests his face in his hands. “Look, it was probably nothing. I just thought I saw someone in a Shiratorizawa jacket down by the woods and I assumed it was Ushijima, okay? It was probably just someone else messing around. It’s nothing. Remind me where you lost Tendou, Ushijima? We can start looking there.”

“...The woods,” Ushijima admits grimly. Daichi’s stomach twists unpleasantly.

“So you were in fact _frolicking in the woods at night_ when your friend went missing,” Oikawa points out, perching on the balls of his feet next to Daichi, who bends over with one hand on his stomach and the other still braced against his forehead. “Don’t you think that’s a little unsafe, Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Please don’t call me that, Oikawa,” Ushijima sighs. “Like I said, it was a test of courage of sorts. Satori and Kawanishi started telling ghost stories, and Satori was bragging that he knows a lot about spirits because his parents are caretakers at a local shrine in Sendai. Kawanishi mentioned there was an urban legend about an abandoned shrine in the woods, and Satori and I were dared to go search for it.”

Daichi still feels dizzy, his stomach tight and hollow. There isn’t enough air making it into his lungs, or something. Isn’t the country air supposed to be _better_ for you than the city?

“At night, though?” Oikawa wonders. Forcing himself up into a proper sitting position, Daichi tries to focus on Oikawa’s questions despite his head still spinning. The wind in the tall grass whispers too close, too close. “What time?”

“Technically it was one in the morning.”

“So you went poking around deep in the woods by yourselves at one in the morning– to which I say again, _brilliant_ idea, Ushiwaka-chan – and your friend got lost. You sure he didn’t fall into a ravine in the dark or something?”

“Positive.”

“And you didn’t just, like, _normal_ lose him?”

“I have already said as much.”

Daichi’s head feels full of cotton. His hand wants to move, to prop his chin up so he can pay attention to Oikawa’s line of questioning, but it – won’t? It won’t. The wind is too loud in the grass, and Oikawa’s voice is even louder, and Daichi thinks he would like to pass out.

He wasn’t even _that_ bothered by the disappearing person at the edge of the woods. This panic-state, or whatever it is, is unwarranted. It was probably nothing.

“This is, from a completely objective point of view, incredibly interesting,” continues Oikawa. “Wish it weren’t such a frickin’ grim circumstance, but you know. What can you do?”

It was nothing. _Nothing_ , Daichi insists to himself, but in his mind’s eye he knows he could see the figure at the edge of the woods staring back at him. He’s sure, thinking back to it now, he could see eyes.

“Anyway, I mentioned I did research? Since you mentioned _kamikakushi,_ Ushiwaka-chan. I did some research on it. There’s variations on the legend; some versions have _tengu_ as the kidnappers, or people in the mountains. Not sure if it meant _real_ people or some kind of spirits that live in the mountains...”

It was nothing, it was nothing, and yet the world is too bright and too loud, and simultaneously so distant from him he feels like he’s being slowly drawn out of it.

“Anyway, the most common version has gods taking people, and sometimes the victims actually just turn back up? Anywhere from days to years later. You mentioned you and Tendou-chan were looking for a shrine in the woods. He might be there; the stories said people tend to show back up at shrines-”

“Oikawa,” Daichi gasps, relief at the sound of his own voice flooding through him, “ _Please shut up._ ”

A lot of things happen at once, in a flurry of motion that Daichi has trouble following. Someone presses the back of a hand to his forehead, someone props him back up from where he’d been pitched forward – he hadn’t even realized he was, or that he’d shut his eyes. There’s the sound of something dragging through the grass nearby – Daichi flinches – the sound of a zipper, and a water bottle is being shoved under his nose. There’s a hand on his back, warm and steady, and another on his knee, lighter, just as steady.

Daichi opens his eyes all the way, and takes the water bottle from Ushijima’s outstretched hand. As soon as the cool water hits his tongue, everything feels that much sharper, that much more real.

“You look terrible,” says Oikawa, patting Daichi’s knee mock-reassuringly. Daichi takes another swig from Ushijima’s water bottle and flips him the bird.

“What happened?” Ushijima asks.

Daichi shakes his head. “If I tried to explain it… I don’t even know where to begin. I just psyched myself out. It’s nothing. Oikawa said something about going after this shrine in the woods?”

It’s pretty obvious from the pouting (Oikawa) and the single judgmentally-raised eyebrow (Ushijima) that neither of them think it’s really nothing. Daichi is also sure it’s not nothing, but he doesn’t want to admit that. Planning something concrete, such as going into the woods to search for Tendou, will help him ground himself. Besides, if that’s where their evening is leading anyway, he might find out who he saw at the edge of the woods earlier - who’s been fucking with him.

 _Or_ what’s _been fucking with you,_ supplies a voice in Daichi’s mind. He staunchly ignores the shiver down his spine.

“Right, well,” says Ushijima. “Oikawa has a point; if victims of _kamikakushi_ often reappear at shrines, it would make sense to search the closest shrine to where Satori disappeared. Which would be the rumored shrine in the woods that Satori and I were looking for to begin with.”

“It’s settled then!” Oikawa clasps his hands together and nods definitively. “Into the woods!”

Standing up isn’t a problem for Daichi until he looks back across the field at the trees and is struck by the strongest sensation of _nope_ he’s ever experienced. Daichi does not _want_ to go into the woods. Unfortunately, he’s made up his mind that he _has_ to. So he picks himself up and dusts off the seat of his pants. Ushijima shoulders his backpack and picks up ...something, long and wrapped in black cloth, which Daichi hadn’t noticed him carrying earlier. He starts leading the procession across the field, followed by Oikawa, and then after a deep steadying breath, by Daichi as well.

The sun’s dipped even further down, dragging the sky into soft pinks and purples. Daichi pats his pocket to make sure his swiss army knife and travel flashlight haven’t fallen out; they haven’t, which reassures him.

As they reach the edge of the woods, Daichi looks back over his shoulder, across the field. He’s not sure why, but part of him expects to see someone standing at the other side, by the fence. Of course, nobody is there. Of course not.

  
   

The barest fragments of sunset make it through the trees, casting a warm orange glow over the forest. In a movie, this would be called _ambiance_ ; to Daichi, it’s simply a ticking clock telling him that in a matter of minutes it’s going to be pitch black. There is no path through the woods – or, Ushijima is unable to locate the path through the woods, which he claims he’s _sure_ was here last time – so the three of them are stamping loudly through the underbrush, attempting to follow a map that Ushijima unfurled out of his backpack upon entering the trees.

It’s cold, and it’s getting darker, and aside from their footsteps it’s silent, the kind of silence that feels too full, as if it’s holding it’s breath in expectation.

Ten minutes into the woods, it becomes very apparent to Daichi that he has made a mistake of _grand_ proportions.

“I’m freezing,” says Oikawa, for the twelfth time.

“You ought to have dressed warmer,” Ushijima replies, continuing to forge his way valiantly through the underbrush.

“I'm sorry, I was a little bit busy preparing for an encounter with the _paranormal_ to have time to change my clothes. What's a guy supposed to wear on a ghost hunt, anyway? Flannel? Leather jacket? It’s not like I’ve done this before. And it’s _February._ ”

Ushijima stops, sets down his backpack, and roots through it briefly before coming up with his Shiratorizawa track jacket. “You can wear this if you’d like, Oikawa,” he says. Oikawa scrunches up his nose in derision.

“Never mind, I’ll just freeze to death.”

“Don’t be petty,” says Daichi, shrugging out of his own Karasuno jacket and throwing it at Oikawa. He takes the Shiratorizawa jacket from Ushijima and puts it on; it’s far too large on him. Having borrowed clothes from Asahi at sleepovers before, Daichi suspects it might fit Karasuno’s ace _,_ maybe. But on Daichi the sleeves are too long and it drapes over his shoulders just slightly. Oikawa, conversely, is tugging at the sleeves of Daichi’s jacket, which is just slightly too small on him. Daichi glances over at Ushijima, a half-formed comment about Oikawa looking better in Karasuno colors than he would in Shiratorizawa purple, only to find Ushijima staring at _him_ instead, a quizzical look on his face.

“Can I help you?” says Daichi. Being under the full force of Ushijima’s stern gaze is always a little intimidating. Being alone in the darkness does not make it any easier to deal with.

“No.” Ushijima hoists his backpack up onto his shoulders, along with the… whatever it is, nicely-wrapped black object slung across Ushijima’s back.

“What’s in that thing anyway?” Daichi gestures vaguely at the thing. Oikawa, having given up on making the sleeves of Daichi’s jacket reach all the way to his hands, perks up attentively.

Ushijima sighs and once again removes his backpack. He unhooks the thing from over his shoulder and unwraps just the top of it, revealing a sleek, gorgeous longbow and a quiver of red-painted and vaguely familiar arrows. “I borrowed these from a local shrine,” he explains. “According to Satori, their purpose is to slay demons.”

Daichi watches as Oikawa’s pride breaks down in the face of his curiosity. His face contorts in irritation, and Daichi hears him mutter something like “Ushiwaka’s not allowed to be _cool_ ” under his breath before, quite snootily, he holds out a hand and Ushijima passes him the wrapped bow. Oikawa turns it over in his hands experimentally, an inquisitive look creeping onto his face.

“Wait, Ushijima,” Daichi says, eyeing the arrows. “Aren’t those just _hamaya_?”

“Exactly,” says Ushijima, holding the quiver of arrows out for Daichi to inspect.

“Those are just protective charms,” says Daichi. “They don’t really do anything, y’know, _actually_ demon-related.”

“Have you ever tried?” Ushijima asks. Daichi is forced to concede that no, he has not, because demons do not exist. Nonetheless he fixes Ushijima with a concerned look as he takes the bow back from Oikawa and rewraps it properly. If Ushijima’s plan for rescuing Tendou hinges on shooting at nonexistent entities with decorative arrows, they might have reason to be worried. Also, it’s _very_ dark out now. Daichi stares out into where he suspects the trees to be, but can’t actually see past the first row of them. If anything’s out there in the shadows, it’s hidden to him.

 _There’s nothing out there in the shadows except normal forest animals,_ Daichi reminds himself. _There’s no such thing as yokai. Or monsters. Or ghosts._

“We should keep going,” he announces. “I don’t want to get lost.”

“We already lost the trail,” Oikawa points out, handing the bow back to Ushijima.

“We never _had_ the trail to begin with.”

“Then how can we be anything _but_ lost?”

Ushijima ignores Oikawa’s complaints and, with a deep inhale, continues his trek through the bushes. Oikawa fixes Daichi with a look like he’s staring into the camera on _The Office_. Daichi shrugs. When he looks back, Ushijima has vanished completely into the darkness.

“Oh, look, we lost him.” Oikawa fake-gasps theatrically. “Guess we have to go home now.”

Daichi, having absolutely none of Oikawa’s shit, but also feeling a distinct shiver run down his back at the thought of being alone in the woods in the dark, places a firm hand on Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he says, and guides him into the woods after Ushijima.

“You’re no fun at all, Sawacchi,” Oikawa huffs, but he lets himself be dragged further into the woods anyway.

 

   

Once they catch up with Ushijima, things go smoothly for about as long as Daichi expects them to –  which is to say: just under five minutes. The woods grow deeper, the air cooler, the chirps of night insects more haunting.

Daichi trips over the roots of something, and when he comes back up, his flashlight appears to be broken.

“God dammit,” he mutters under his breath, uselessly flicking the switch back and forth.

“Is everything alright?” asks Ushijima. Oikawa points the light of his cell phone in his direction as he speaks, and Daichi frowns sympathetically at the concerned look on his face.

“Flashlight’s busted.” Daichi throws up his hands in defeat as Oikawa points the light in his face. “I guess.”

With a sputter, Oikawa’s phone dies abruptly, taking its flashlight function with it. Ushijima’s flashlight goes out immediately after.

Out of the sudden engulfing blackness, Oikawa says, “Well, _that’s_ not concerning at all.”

“Not to worry,” says Ushijima’s disembodied voice. The bushes nearby rustle, and Daichi stiffens reflexively, but then realizes it’s just Ushijima kneeling down when he hears the sound of a backpack unzipping. “I have a lantern,” Ushijima explains.

“Like, an electric lantern?” asks Oikawa.

“No,” says Ushijima, and then his face is briefly illuminated by a spark as he attempts to strike a match. Oikawa makes a discomforted sound; there’s more shuffling in the bushes and then something brushes up against Daichi’s sleeve.

“Woah!”

“Just me!” Oikawa yelps, latching onto Daichi’s arm. “Ushiwaka-chan, can you maybe _not?_ ”

Ushijima pauses, having just successfully struck a match. His face is stark and angular in the glow from the flame. “Is something wrong?” He frowns at Oikawa and Daichi as he straightens back up, match in one hand and empty lanter in the other.

“No?” says Daichi. Something quiet rustles in the woods behind him, and he exerts significant effort not to shudder while Oikawa’s clinging to him. He desperately needs to know if something’s shifting through the bushes behind him. He desperately does not want to have to know.

“Maybe,” Oikawa mutters, squishing his cheek against Daichi’s shoulder. Daichi’s stomach does a funny little flip, and he reaches over awkwardly with his free hand to pat Oikawa’s arm in a way he hopes is reassuring.

“Maybe?” he asks. Oikawa makes a noncommital noise against Daichi’s shoulder and sighs heavily.

“Okay, so every year at Aoba Johsai summer training camps we set up a test of courage sorta thing for the first years, right,” Oikawa explains rapidly, a little nervously. “It’s like a tradition. Usually something intended to spook out the new members, y’know. Purposefully put on by the senpais to be scary.”

“So like hazing?” Daichi snorts derisively. Something rustles behind them again, a little closer now. Daichi does stiffen up a little bit this time – he’s certain he heard a soft exhale of breath – but he forgives it because Oikawa shivers a little too, and Ushijima tenses up and frowns at something just over Daichi’s shoulder. Daichi shoots him a concerned look, but the only response he gets is Ushijima shaking his head _no_ , very subtly.

Totally not concerning.

“It is absolutely not hazing!” Oikawa insists. “I don’t think it was meant to be, at least. But my year it kinda, it got out of hand. You know those games like Hitori Kakurenbo?”

“Hide and seek on your own,” clarifies Ushijima. “Yes. I’ve played it.”

“You’ve _what,_ ” Daichi and Oikawa say in tandem, and then Oikawa immediately adds, “Nevermind, not the point. Anyway, there’s the one where you’re supposed to light a candle and open the door of your house or wherever you are and invite in some kind of spirit, and then you have to walk around the house like, keeping the flame lit and not letting the spirit extinguish it or you die or something, right.”

“Oikawa, you know none of that stuff is real, right?” Daichi reassures him, once again patting him on the arm. This time Oikawa snatches his hand out of the air, startling him.

“There was _absolutely_ something there, Sawamura,” Oikawa insists, and Daichi knows he must seriously believe it because he’s dropped the silly nickname. “Something got in when Iwa-chan and I had our turn to play it, and we swore up and down we were never gonna talk about it because nobody would believe us if we did, okay? Ushijima, _please_ don’t light that thing.”

By this point, Oikawa’s pressed close enough up against Daichi that he can feel a shiver run through him at the memories. He reflexively tries to reach for him again, but Oikawa’s still holding tightly onto his hand.

“I would rather have at least one light source,” Ushijima insists. He moves to light the lantern. Oikawa draws in a sharp breath as the wick catches and the lantern illuminates a circle of light around the three of them. Ushijima, stone-faced as ever, nods with satisfaction.

“See?” says Daichi, turning to smile reassuringly at Oikawa. “It’s all good. Nothing weird happened.”

Oikawa’s eyes are still wide as saucers and fixed on the lantern. He whines softly, and Daichi looks back just in time to see a thin, shadowy hand reach over Ushijima’s shoulder and pinch out the flame in the lantern, plunging the three of them back into darkness.

With significant effort, Daichi manages not to scream, but even if he _had_ it’s not like anyone would have heard, because Oikawa screams louder. His grip on Daichi tightens, and something – Daichi _really_ hopes it’s Ushijima – stumbles rapidly out of the darkness directly into both of them, and they fall to the ground in a heap. Beginning to wonder if he pissed off some higher power (and grudgingly suspecting one exists after all), Daichi finds himself at the bottom of a pile of large teenage boys, one of which is still screaming, the other attempting to light a match.

“Ushijima, dude, stop that, you’re gonna set us on fire,” Daichi barks, confirming it is indeed Ushijima as the strike of a match catches its glow in his eyes. “Oikawa, quit yelling, holy shit.”

Oikawa buries his face in Daichi’s chest and screams out a very muffled “ _If I die, tell Iwa-chan I’m sorry!”_

“You’re not dying.” Daichi gently ruffles Oikawa’s hair in a way he hopes is reassuring; Oikawa whines at him and leans into his hand. Daichi tries very hard to focus on the situation at hand instead of continuing to pet Oikawa. It’s not easy. “Look, if whatever that was just now wanted to attack us, it would’ve by now.”

 _Hopefully,_ he thinks. _You never know. They might be watching you still_.

Reluctantly, Oikawa stops yelling into Daichi’s pecs and pushes himself into a kneeling position. Ushijima, still diligently trying to light a match, doesn’t get up, but one body is easier to shove than two, and Daichi manages to (also reluctantly) wriggle his way out from underneath him.

As if on cue, Ushijima finally gets the match lit, and simultaneously Oikawa’s phone light and both the flashlights flicker back to life. Daichi stares at his flashlight, sitting right where he dropped it, completely undamaged and glowing happily. The sudden light illuminates just enough of the woods around them that Daichi can see the three of them are definitely alone again. He finally allows himself a glance over his shoulder, very slowly: it’s pitch black not five feet behind him, and even if something _was_ out there still he wouldn’t be able to see. He gazes out into the woods, and hopes it’s just his imagination that he feels like something out there is gazing back.

“...Flickering lights can be a sign of paranormal activity,” Oikawa murmurs, clearly shaken.

“Yes.” Ushijima nods, getting up and shaking out the match. He retrieves both his and Daichi’s flashlights from the ground, and then kneels back down with Daichi and Oikawa. “This happened the other night with me and Satori too. ...Well, the lights going out part, I mean. Not the, uh.”

“Right, the, uh… Did he disappear immediately after that?” Oikawa asks, shuffling around to face Ushijima. “Like, lights go out, and then when they came back he was gone?”

“No. It was some time after that. We were a little deeper into the woods.”

 _This is deep enough in for me,_ Daichi thinks grimly. He firmly ignores the hairs prickling on the back of his neck and the lingering suspicion that something is watching them from the dark.

“How much deeper?” Oikawa, seeming to get his composure back, unlocks his phone and starts tapping industriously away. “I think it would be smart to poke around a bit in that area. I downloaded this neat app that’s supposed to make your phone function as an EMF meter – that’s like, a ghost radar, Sawacchi, in case you didn’t know.”

“It was somewhat further north of here.” Ushijima fishes a compass out of his pocket and studies it, before pointing vaguely off to his left.

“Have you been using that _this whole time_?”

“Guys,” Daichi interrupts, “Are we just… not gonna talk about what just happened? The uh. The hand. I feel like that’s kind of important, y’know, to address.”

“I _really_ don’t wanna think about it,” Oikawa says immediately.

“It’s not the weirdest thing I have ever seen,” Ushijima replies with a shrug. Oikawa gapes at him. Daichi pinches the bridge of his nose and ignores the resurging and very insistent pinging of the Shenanigans Radar. He does not want to know, he does _not want to know_.

“What could possibly be – never mind.” Oikawa shakes his head. “Let’s keep moving. I wanna keep moving. Let’s get this all over with.”

So they get up – Daichi offers one more narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder, but still can’t confirm the presence of anything that might be giving off the feeling they’re being watched – and they keep going. Daichi still feels like he’s being watched, he still feels distinctly colder than normal, but they keep going. They keep going.

 

   

After a short while of more walking, Ushijima stops and turns back to Daichi and Oikawa. “This is it,” he announces.

“This is ...what?” Daichi glances around. _This_ is a completely unremarkable patch of woods that looks exactly like the rest of the woods: dark, covered in trees and bushes and ferns. The only thing unique about it is that the three of them are standing in it. There’s nothing special about it. Yet, as he examines the area, Daichi feels a shiver run down his spine unbidden. His fingertips twitch in anticipation – but of what, he’s not sure. Just… anticipation. Imminence. A tingling in the back of his skull like something’s about to happen.

“This is where Satori disappeared,” says Ushijima.

Oikawa immediately takes out his phone and boots up an app, which gives off a blue glow and beeps rhythmically at him. He scans it around the area before declaring, “The EMF readings are really high here. You might actually be onto something with the kamikakushi idea, Ushiwaka-chan. If it’s working right, there’s _definitely_ something paranormal around here.”

Daichi frowns, and scratches the back of his head. It feels like someone’s trying to stare right through him. He refuses to turn around and check again; he’ll feel stupid when he sees nothing there. Because _nothing is there_. Right? Nothing is there. It’s just… too quiet here, and abruptly Daichi realizes that all the sounds of the woods – night creatures, insects, even the wind – have stopped. It’s a heavy silence, an invasive silence, and it feels like it’s closing in around him.

“What is EMF?” he asks, just to make _some_ noise. His voice doesn’t sound quite right coming out of his mouth.

“Electromagnetic fields,” Oikawa replies immediately. “Paranormal entities generate them, according to the internet.”

Oikawa’s clearly not bothering to be quiet, but Daichi realizes he has trouble hearing what he says as he continues. It’s not that it’s necessarily quieter here, actually; it’s more that everything he’s hearing feels like it’s coming through a muffled filter. A soft, soft voice in the back of his mind keeps saying that it’s stupid, it’s not worth listening to. Meaningless. Who cares?

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet,” he mumbles, remembering he said the exact same thing to Ushijima earlier in the day. But that’s neither here nor there. Daichi’s shoulders feel heavy, his ears pop as if he’s gone suddenly up in elevation. He feels the same pressure inside his head as he did out in the field, before they entered the woods, and he resists the urge to kneel down with his head in his hands. Dizziness overtakes him, and the blackness starts closing in – is he passing out? Or is the darkness literally swallowing him?

And then he stands up, pin-straight, eyes wide with fierce, crystal-sharp focus. His breathing evens out – he hadn’t realized it’d sped up. He feels… better, but… something’s funny about it. He feels better, but empty. Like he’s left the dizziness and the feeling-watched and the muffling silence behind in the forefront of his mind and simply stepped back from it. Ushijima turns to give him a scrutinizing look, but Daichi ignores him. He doesn’t _mean_ to ignore him, but he does. Something is off, but only part of him – the stepped back part – seems to notice. The other part is...

“Sawacchi, are you listening?” Oikawa says, somewhere off to his left.

In Daichi’s mind, a voice that is _definitely_ not his own says, “Push him.”

Daichi’s body moves without him meaning to. Part of him – the stepped-back part, the part of him that’s still _him_ , probably – watches in detached horror as his own hands shove Oikawa, _hard_ , and he stumbles backward.

 _He’ll be fine,_ Daichi thinks desperately, because he doesn’t want to have to think the obvious: _why did I just do that?_ He didn’t mean to. He didn’t consciously decide to, or even consciously _move_. It felt more like watching himself do it from the back of his own mind.

 _He’s fine,_ Daichi insists as Oikawa trips on the roots of a tree – and falls over a steep ledge and disappears into the dark.

 _This is absolutely not fine!!_ Daichi’s mind is rushing, but his body won’t move. He feels trapped inside as his fingers curl and uncurl out of fists, as his mouth contorts into a smile against his will. He watches from somewhere distant inside himself as Ushijima lurches forward, just barely not in time to catch Oikawa and stop his fall. Daichi pretends he can’t hear Oikawa’s scream or the sounds of him tumbling down the steep hill into a ravine – he has no idea how deep it is, how far down – but a horrifying part of him is giddy with the thought of violence.

Ushijima rounds on Daichi, drawing a water bottle out of his backpack. A brief moment of confusion overtakes both Daichi himself and the other, horrifying nightmare part of him, and then Ushijima splashes the contents of the water bottle over him. It’s cold, it’s _ice_ cold and shocking and Daichi feels a definite moment of clarity when it hits him. Daichi gasps, and he tries to speak, to beg Ushijima to help him get back to himself, but before he can he’s forced back into the back of his own mind and _something else_ settles in at the helm.

Then there’s an arrowhead in his face, and Daichi realizes Ushijima’s dropped his bag and unsheathed his bow. At point-blank range like this, there’s no way he could miss the shot.

“Sawamura,” he says, very slowly. “Am I speaking to _you_ , or something else?”

 _Me,_ Daichi attempts to say, but he can’t get it past his lips. He feels like throwing up, like something slick and horrible is lodged in his throat, preventing him from speaking. _I’m here, Jesus, do something._

 _There’s nothing that can be done,_ says the voice that isn’t him. Daichi’s skin crawls; something about the voice just feels _wrong, wrong, wrong._ It lances through him like thorns in his nerves.

“Sawamura?” Ushijima tries once more, and Daichi feels his face split into a toothy, nightmarish grin. A giddy little laugh escapes his lips.

“Not Sawamura, _not_ Sawamura.” Ushijima steps back, but keeps the arrow aimed directly at the spot between Daichi’s eyes.

 _Please, for the love of god, don’t shoot me in the face,_ Daichi tries to say, but the freaky grin is still in the way of his voice. Against his will, he steps toward Ushijima. The tip of the arrow bumps against his forehead and Daichi _swears_ it burns where it touches his skin.

“I, uh. I can handle this,” Ushijima says. “I know what to do, in theory. When a demonic possession occurs…” He glances at his backpack, but whatever might be in it that he needs is out of reach unless he lets down the bow and arrow. Daichi realizes he really doesn’t want to know what he’d do if Ushijima put down the bow and arrow, but has no way of communicating that while he’s trapped in his own body with something else piloting.

 _Alright,_ he thinks. _Demonic possession_ . _Not something I expected to have to come to terms with ever. Still not sure I believe that’s what’s happening, but I have no other explanation. Whatever it is, it better fucking_ stop _happening right goddamn now._

 _You think you can stop me,_ says the nightmare voice. _That’s funny._

It does not stop happening. In fact, it gets worse. Daichi’s hand reaches up slowly and takes hold of the shaft of the arrow. It stings in his hand, like it’s covered in acid, but he snaps it easily. He feels the wood splinter into his palm and winces, but the nightmare grin doesn’t leave his face. He tosses the broken arrow to the side and takes another step toward Ushijima.

In his head, Daichi squares his shoulders – or his mental perception of his shoulders, maybe – and thinks, as strongly as he can, _This body belongs to me._ He’s not sure if he can regain control simply by sheer force of will, but he’s not really sure what else he _can_ do.

Ugly laughter racks Daichi’s body, chilling and sharp in his throat. Ushijima backs away, bow dropping uselessly to his side; Daichi steps closer, eyes narrowed, distinctly predatory.

 _This is my body and I refuse to let it be used to hurt people_.

The voice cackles again, but Daichi bites down on it and manages to keep most of it from escaping his body. _You’ve already hurt one!_ it cheers in his mind. Daichi’s stomach churns unpleasantly.

Ushijima locks eyes with Daichi and nods very slowly, and then lunges for his backpack. Daichi lunges after him, despite his rational mind still protesting against it. Luckily Ushijima’s faster, and he’s able to pull something out of his backpack just in time to stop Daichi getting his hands around his neck. Ushijima presses the thing – some sort of paper – to Daichi’s forehead, and just like that all the fight goes out of him.

Daichi finds himself dizzy and disoriented – and miraculously back at the controls. It’s a tangible difference, being alone in his own mind again. He hadn’t realized how choked he’d felt until he was free of it. Completely drained, he slumps forward, landing heavily on his knees, and then topples over onto Ushijima’s lap. His whole body aches like he’s been run over by a truck, and he attempts to communicate this, but mostly it comes out as a discomforted groan.

“Sawamura?”

“It’s me,” Daichi sighs heavily. “Unfortunately. Ugh, what the hell was that?”

“A spell tag?” Ushijima replies. “I am actually not one hundred percent sure. The priest that was there when I visited the temple gave it to me in case of emergency-”

“Not that. God, everything hurts.”

Ushijima tentatively places a hand on Daichi’s back and rubs it reassuringly. Daichi sighs in pleasure at the contact; Ushijima’s a little bit awkward with it, but the intention is genuine and that’s what matters. “I am glad you’re back,” Ushijima says softly.

“Me too, big guy.”

Daichi spends a solid two minutes with his face in Ushijima’s lap, languishing in getting his back rubbed, and it’s honestly seriously nice right up until he remembers he shoved Oikawa into a ravine.

“FUCK!” Daichi shoves himself to his feet and fumbles with his flashlight, spell tag still stuck on his forehead. “Oikawa!” Stumbling his way through the dark, just a little bit concerned that he doesn’t know where the edge of the ravine is, Daichi finally manages to get his flashlight on and points it at the ground. Ushijima catches up quickly to him, and as soon as Daichi finds the ledge he grabs hold of a tree and leans over the edge, pointing his flashlight down into the darkness.

It’s not _deep_ . It’s relieving that it’s not deep, but it’s still about twenty feet, and that is _not_ a comfortable distance to fall. At the bottom of the ravine, he spots Oikawa, on his back with one arm thrown across his face. Daichi’s heart drops clear through his stomach when he realizes he can’t tell if he’s conscious or not.

He immediately starts climbing down the slope, Ushijima right behind him.

“Sawamura, wait,” Ushijima calls after him, but Daichi’s already halfway down. He stumbles down the last few feet and drops to his knees at Oikawa’s side.

“Back off,” Oikawa snaps, before Daichi even has a chance to get close. “Don’t touch me.”

Because of _course_ Oikawa wouldn’t trust him. Daichi quickly realizes that this is probably what Ushijima was trying to warn him about; Oikawa wasn’t present for the… exorcism, or whatever just happened. He wasn’t there to see the proof that it wasn’t the real Daichi who pushed him. As far as Oikawa knows, Daichi himself pushed him into a ravine. Guilt sticks in his throat like glue.

“I – sorry, god, I’m–”

Oikawa rolls gingerly onto his side, away from Daichi.

“Are you?” Oikawa asks, quiet and tense. Daichi flinches as if he’s been hit.

“What – don’t be stupid, of course I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to–”

Oikawa scoffs. “You _didn’t mean to_ push me into a ravine?”

“Of _course_ I didn’t!”

“Sawamura was possessed by a malevolent spirit,” explains Ushijima, looming over the both of them. Oikawa barks out a humorless laugh. “Oikawa, can you stand?”

“I haven’t tried,” he admits bitterly. “Got the wind knocked outta me when I landed.” He attempts to push himself into a sitting position, pointedly avoiding looking in Daichi’s direction and ignoring his hand when Daichi offers it to help him up.

 _It's understandable,_ Daichi admits. If someone had pushed _him_ into a ravine he'd be avoiding them too. But that doesn't make it hurt less.

“I’m truly sorry for putting us all in danger,” says Ushijima. “I think we should rest for the night and find Satori in the morning.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “I said one night only. We're gonna finish this god-forsaken ghost quest bullshit. Tomorrow morning I’m calling Iwa-chan to come get me out of this stupid forest. I shouldn't have come.”

With that final declaration, Oikawa musters up the determination to force himself to stand. He wavers for a moment, but eventually determines he’s alright. However, immediately upon trying to take a step, pitches forward with a yelp. Ushijima catches him easily, and to both his and Daichi’s surprise, Oikawa simply sighs heavily instead of shoving him away.

Ushijima frowns down at Oikawa. “You're hurt,” he declares pointlessly. “We're stopping for the night.”

“Make me,” says Oikawa. Daichi suspects it's just to be contrary – which he hopes means Oikawa isn't nearly as upset with Daichi for the whole demonic possession thing as he was acting.

“If you insist.” Ushijima nods to himself, and then hoists Oikawa over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Oikawa makes a scandalized noise as Ushijima quite casually readjusts his position and then nods for Daichi to follow him. Oikawa protests, mostly by huffing indignantly and muttering under his breath that Ushijima is an undignified brute, for the whole ten minutes Ushijima carries him. Daichi drags his feet behind them, feeling guilty and awful.

He should have been able to handle that better.

There was no way he could have known _how_ to handle that better. Up until twenty minutes ago, ghosts and demons were in the realm of plausible deniability _at best_ . Daichi wasn’t afraid of dealing with ghosts because _there were no ghosts_.

Only suddenly there were. And suddenly everything was going absolutely wrong. And it was his fault for not being able to fight back.

 _Oikawa did research,_ he remembers. _Ushijima seems to already know this stuff. Either of them could’ve dealt with that better than I did. Nobody would’ve had to be pushed off a cliff._

“We can rest here for the night,” Ushijima announces suddenly, and Daichi finds that they’ve stopped in front of a massive tree, hollowed out by a long-ago lightning strike. “Sawamura, please wait here for a moment.”

Ushijima steps inside the tree and sets Oikawa down before rooting through his backpack. Oikawa slumps against the inside wall of the tree and pulls his knees up to his chest. Daichi, hands in his pockets, tries to give him an apologetic glance, but Oikawa won’t meet his eyes, so instead he focuses on Ushijima.

From his backpack Ushijima produces the large container of rock salt he’d purchased earlier. He opens it and starts pouring it out on the ground, in a line, just outside the entrance to the hollow tree. He pours the salt in a circle all the way around the tree before replacing the container in his backpack and re-exiting the tree and the salt circle to stand before Daichi.

In a voice loud enough that Oikawa can hear him too, Ushijima explains: “Salt is a purifying agent; spirits are unable to cross over salt lines. If there’s anything left in there besides you, Sawamura, it will be unable to cross with you. Although,” – he taps the spell tag, which Daichi had forgotten was still affixed to his forehead – “I’m sure this has taken care of the worst of it.”

Ushijima turns back to the hollow tree, and then, as if having just been reminded, faces Daichi once more. He opens his mouth, decides against whatever he was going to say, and instead awkwardly pats Daichi on the head.

Daichi stands stock-still and contemplates the nature of reality for a few moments while Ushijima situates himself inside the tree next to Oikawa. It occurs to him that his heart is beating very quickly. He hopes it’s not because of ghosts or something. He’s not sure what he’d rather the cause be.

Eventually Daichi gets his bearings and moves to step over the salt line and enter the tree. He hesitates, however, finding himself in a very surreal headspace as he attempts it. _Enter the tree_ , he thinks with disdain. _This is what my life has come to. Demonic possession and hiding in trees. What if I can’t cross the salt line? What if it really_ was _me?_

“Sawamura?” Ushijima calls. Daichi peers in at him with great concern; both Ushijima and Oikawa are staring at him in anticipation (the latter with significant trepidation visible in his narrowed eyes).

“Yeah, sorry.” Daichi steels his nerves, shuts his eyes, and steps forward.

Nothing happens. It’s the most relieving nothing he’s ever experienced.

“See?” says Ushijima to Oikawa. “No demonic possession. He’s alright now.”

“I didn’t see proof of demonic possession ever being a factor,” Oikawa mutters. “All I saw was Sawamura making a face and then I was fucking _shoved-_ ”

“Oikawa…”

“-off a fucking _cliff-_ ”

“Please.”

Daichi kneels down in the entrance of the tree, and after a moment of serious deliberation he lowers his head. He doesn’t know if Oikawa’s even looking at him.

“I should’ve been able to handle the situation better and you were hurt because of me,” he says. “My refusal to even entertain the idea of the supernatural made me underprepared and it got you hurt. I’m seriously sorry. Please don’t hold it against me, if you can.”

He risks a glance up at Oikawa; he is in fact paying attention. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open just a little.

“Huh,” he says eventually. “I thought you’d have too much pride for something like that.”

“Excuse me?” says Daichi, rising back to a regular sitting position.

Oikawa pouts. It’s not as cute as earlier; maybe he’s still mad. “No, no, I didn’t say you could sit up. Get back down there and apologize on behalf of Karasuno for taking away my chance at nationals.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking with me.”

“Not if you’re going to be so rude.”

“Excuse me?” Daichi gapes at Oikawa. Instead of dignifying that with any sort of response, however, Oikawa turns away from Daichi and curls up to go to sleep. Daichi almost calls out to him to get his attention, but before he can, he notices Oikawa’s fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket – Daichi’s Karasuno jacket, which he’s still wearing – and decides against it. His heart is doing the uncomfortable speeding-up thing again, and he doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid.

Instead, he shuffles his way over to sit next to Ushijima, who nods gently at him.

“He’ll be alright,” Ushijima says. “Probably.”

“You of all people know exactly how long he can hold a grudge for, do you really think he’ll forgive me that easily?”

Ushijima shrugs. “You apologized.”

“I can hear you two,” Oikawa interrupts. Daichi flushes all the way to the tips of his ears in embarrassment, and he and Ushijima stop talking.

After a long, silent moment, Ushijima gestures for Daichi to get closer. One eyebrow raised, he does as he’s asked, shuffling over until his shoulder bumps Ushijima’s. Ushijima nods to himself, clearly satisfied, and then leans over to rest his cheek on Daichi’s head. Daichi bites down on a startled squeak as Ushijima settles himself against his side.

“Um…” Daichi starts, but Ushijima sighs contentedly and he decides maybe he won’t ask what he’s doing after all. Instead, he breathes in deep and lets himself relax, feeling the heat of Ushijima’s leg pressed up against his, falling into sync with his breathing.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Ushijima says quietly. “Both of you. I regret heavily putting you both in danger, but it scares me to think what would have happened to me on my own, so I’m glad I was not.”

Daichi lets out a low whistle. Ushijima _had_ been planning on coming on his own even if both of them had refused him. He shudders to think what it would’ve been like to be out here on his own, in the dark, with… whatever it was out there that’d got him. He wonders if it even _was_ the thing in the dark that had gotten him, or if maybe it’d been sneaking after him longer. If maybe the figure he saw disappearing into the woods, and the episode he’d had because of it were related to this. If the person he thought he saw standing by Oikawa at the empty bus stop earlier in the afternoon was the same figure that disappeared into the woods.

Daichi shudders involuntarily; Ushijima leans more heavily against him, almost to the point of overbalancing them and tipping them both over. Just in time, Daichi throws out a hand to brace himself.

“Ushijima,” he asks, “What are you doing?”

“I am reassuring you that I still trust and am comfortable around you,” Ushijima replies.

“By tipping over on me?”

“I am leaning companionably against you.”

 _No complaints there,_ thinks Daichi. “I’m gonna fall over,” he says instead. “You’re too heavy.”

“Oh.”

Ushijima sits back up straight, ceasing completely to lean on Daichi, which is just unacceptable at this point so Daichi follows him back up and leans on him instead. He rests his head on Ushijima’s shoulder and readjusts himself comfortably against his side. Ushijima squirms a little, like he’s not sure what to do with the contact all of a sudden, even though he was just practically draping himself over Daichi.

“Relax,” Daichi assures him. Ushijima inhales deeply, and then nods, and returns to resting his cheek atop Daichi’s head. Daichi smiles. He casts a glance up at Oikawa, and seeing him still in the Karasuno jacket reminds Daichi that he himself is still in Ushijima’s Shiratorizawa jacket. He hopes Ushijima can’t feel how warm his face is getting, because he feels like he’s on fire.

“I am worried about Satori,” Ushijima admits, almost inaudibly. “Being out here alone…”

“We’ll find him,” Daichi insists.

“What if we find him and we’re too late?”

Ushijima worried would have been surreal enough, but Ushijima scared is downright upsetting. Daichi isn't quite sure how to react, honestly.

“We're gonna find him,” Daichi repeats. “He's gonna be okay. I swear I’ll help you find him.”

Ushijima hums quietly, and readjusts himself one final time to put an arm around Daichi.

After a long while of trying not to fidget while he attempts to chill out and maybe enjoy what he assumes passes for cuddling with the captain of Shiratorizawa, Daichi says, “Actually, probably we should sleep.” He’s not sure if he means separately, or if he low-key wants them to lay down right where they are, still tucked up against each other.

“Probably,” Ushijima agrees, yawning. “If we want to be well-rested to search for Satori in the morning.”

“I’m trying to sleep _right now_ ,” Oikawa interrupts, “but _someone_ is too busy being gay and it’s keeping me awake.”

Begrudgingly, Ushijima and Daichi separate and lay down – still apart from each other. Daichi tosses and turns for awhile, unable to get comfortable. The ground is hard under his head, and it’s honestly freezing out – whose fantastic idea was it to go romping through the woods at night in late February anyway? – and nobody but Ushijma packed for this. Upon laying down, Ushijima had pulled out an electric blanket and an inflatable pillow from his backpack, and Daichi finds himself increasingly inclined to shuffle his way over and curl up against Ushijima’s back.

He checks his phone, wondering if he might text Suga for advice, or at least a reality check. Neither of them have ever had to deal with simultaneous feelings for more than one rival volleyball captain, or an acquaintance’s good friend going missing in a haunted forest, much less both conflicting and radically differently-proportioned crises at once. But Daichi trusts Suga to at the very least verbally knock sense into him about both of these things.

Unfortunately, he’s out of range of phone service.

It doesn’t look like he’s going to be getting any sleep though, so Daichi sits up, and scoots over to sit at the entrance to the hollow tree and stand guard.

If there are really things out there in the night – and they seem to be doing everything in their power to prove they’re really out there – someone ought to keep watch. Daichi firmly disbelieves that a line of salt is going to keep evil spirits out of anywhere they’re inclined to get themselves into. The human body is _full_ of salt, after all. Would demons have an easier time possessing people, he wonders, if they’re deficient in sodium? Are people like Tsukishima immune to possession, or is it only literal salt that’s supposed to protect you?

And then, out in the darkness, something _shifts_.

Daichi can’t see it, at first. He points his flashlight out into the woods, but it doesn’t illuminate anything but trees. But when he lets it drop to point at the ground, lets his eyes adjust to the dark, he starts to get the feeling that some of the shadows are just slightly darker than others. Slightly… fuller.

If he focuses hard enough, he’s sure something is standing just beside the closest tree to where he sits. He still can’t _see_ it, but every single one of the rest of his senses is telling him something is there. The shadows are too dark, just there, just to the left of that tree. The space is too full. He can’t see it, but something is definitely standing right there.

And then, he _can_ see it. Such a minute shift in perspective occurs that where there was empty space just a moment ago, now there’s an outline, a shadow-form, the vague suggestion of a person. It slumps against the side of the tree, and even though it seems to be nothing more than darkness pretending to be person-shaped, Daichi swears it’s looking right at him.

It’s there, and then it’s suddenly not, and Daichi spends a terrified second scanning the trees for it before breaking out in a cold sweat. His eyes readjust to the darkness. The shadow thing is standing right before him, not ten paces from the entrance to the hollowed out tree.

It is… Not human. Not the least bit. It might have the vague shape of humanity left in its outline from having possessed Daichi, but it’s… _wrong._ It looms, tall enough to block a doorway, with wide sloping shoulders and arms that drape all the way to the forest floor. Where its eyes ought to be are holes, or darker spots, where the darkness seems to physically sink in and compress.

It just lurks there, barely meters away, and it _stares._

Daichi can’t move. He knows at once that this is the thing that possessed him. He can feel the same tingling at the back of his neck, the same sudden icy dizziness coming over him. His flashlight sputters out again, but it wasn't doing much anyway. He has to do something, he has to stop this from happening again, he won’t forgive himself if it does, but he _can’t move_. Something is dreadfully wrong… and it hits him, suddenly, that it’s fear. It’s nothing but horrible fear keeping him frozen in place.

“Don’t move,” says a whisper behind him, and then there’s an arrow pointed over his shoulder. “Am I aimed correctly?”

“Can you… not see it?”

“I get the feeling it’s there,” is the reply, breaking just enough from whisper into shaking spoken voice that Daichi realizes it’s not Ushijima aiming the bow over his shoulder, but Oikawa. “ _Am I aimed correctly?_ ”

“Yeah,” Daichi gasps.

“Don’t move,” Oikawa repeats, and immediately lets loose the arrow.

Practicing volleyball serves to the extent Oikawa does must do wonders for his aim, because the arrow hits its mark right in the head. The shadow thing reels, stumbling backwards. Daichi gets the feeling that if it had a mouth it would be screaming. It looks like it should be screaming. The edges of its form shudder, and the shadow thing convulses, and then all of a sudden it’s gone and the arrow falls to the forest floor with a wooden clatter.

Oikawa sets the bow down on the ground. With a heavy sigh of relief, he slumps forward to lean on Daichi’s back.

“You forgive me then?” Daichi teases. Oikawa blows a raspberry at him, which is about as mature a response as he expected. In lieu of a real reply, Oikawa just shifts a little bit closer, hooks his fingers onto the hem of Daichi’s shirt, and buries his face in Daichi’s shoulderblades.

“I told you,” he mumbles, “I’ve played the Midnight Game before. I know what happens to people who play.”

“You’ve seen this happen before?” Daichi almost turns in shock to gape at Oikawa, but the hand gripping his shirt reaffixes itself around his waist and keeps him in place.

“Iwa-chan and I played it together. We didn't think it was real, of course. We were fucking around, joking. Y'know, like best friends do.”

Daichi tries to imagine playing such a game with _his_ best friends. Asahi of course would refuse to come within fifty feet (“Unlike the rest of this team, Daichi, I have a self-preservation instinct”), but he and Suga? Fucking around, for sure.

“Anyway, something really weird happened. We both saw someone watching us, like silhouetted in the window and we thought it was a senpai messing with us. So we tried to sneak up on them, right?”

Oikawa’s grip tightens against Daichi’s waist. Compulsively, he reaches down and covers Oikawa’s hand with his own. His skin is cold and his fingers are shaking. Daichi smooths his thumb across the back of Oikawa’s hand. He hopes it’s comforting.

“Iwa-chan dared me to like. Sneak up on them and surprise them, and so I did, right. We were just messing around. I… don't remember what happened after that, actually,” Oikawa admits. “I woke up in some classroom feeling like I’d been run over by a train. Desks everywhere. Papers all over. Lights not working. It was pretty clear we lost the game.”

“What?”

“I found Iwa-chan asleep in a closet in a salt circle,” he adds, laughing uncomfortably. Daichi’s eyebrows knit together in brief confusion, and then cold realization settles into him.

“Oikawa-”

“He didn't talk about it for like, three days. When he did, he said I didn't do anything to him. He said I just passed out or something. And he wasn't _hurt._ But…”

This time Daichi does turn around, jostling Oikawa off of his back and letting him instead fall forward against his chest. Carefully, Daichi places one arm around his shoulders.  Oikawa makes a startled noise, but doesn't fight the contact at all.

“Don't tell me it wasn't my fault,” says Oikawa, stopping Daichi from doing just that. “I was stupid, I messed with something I didn't understand, and I might've hurt someone I really care about without even knowing, and now _you_ managed to stay awake somehow. At least enough to know what you needed to apologize for. I don't even get _that_ much-”

“Oikawa,” Daichi interrupts. Oikawa pushes away from him, lips pursed tightly, hands clenched into fists in his lap. “I have no idea what happened to you back then, but look at this. Right now. You get to go home and tell your best friend he’s safe for good now. You shot the thing that hurt you both. In the head.”

“Did I really?” Oikawa seems startled for just a brief moment, but then comes back to himself and flutters a bit. “Well, I always knew I had good aim.”

“You are pretty formidable,” Daichi admits.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Oikawa huffs, but it's clear he's lying. Daichi grins at him, and Oikawa stares openly at him before curling back into Daichi's arms. After a long moment, in which Daichi tries to pretend he’s not about to suffer a heart attack, Oikawa leans up and rests his chin on Daichi’s sternum.

“Can I help you?” Daichi asks. He hopes it’s dark enough that Oikawa can't see the blush he knows is rising on his cheeks. Oikawa pouts at him for an uncomfortably long time before tugging on the collar of Daichi’s --rather, _Ushijima's_ jacket.

“You would look better in Seijou blue,” he mutters.

“And _you_ would look better in Shiratorizawa purple,” Ushijima interrupts, “but I doubt I would fit in Sawamura’s jacket so I don't suggest any more swapping of clothes right now.”

“Of _course_ you're awake,” Oikawa sighs.

“I woke up when you shot the thing,” Ushijima explains with a yawn. “May we please collectively choose to sleep now? The sooner we can be awake and searching for _my_ best friend, the better.”

“Fine.” Oikawa shrugs, and then he tips both himself and Daichi onto the ground. He props himself up on his elbows and pouts at Ushijima. “But you're sharing the blanket,” he says. “Don't be stingy.”

Ushijima considers this for all of about three seconds.

“Fine,” he agrees. He gets up and repositions himself on Daichi’s other side before draping the electric blanket over all three of them and laying down.

Between the addition of the blanket, Oikawa still curled up on top of one of his arms and Ushijima resting back to back with him, Daichi finds he is just _slightly_ too hot to sleep. And that's fine with him.

 

   

And then he’s awake. He wasn't aware of having fallen asleep, but Daichi wakes, the sun just barely breaking through the edges of the deep woods. The sound of morning insects chirping is the first and greatest difference he notices from the previous night, as well as the most relieving. The world feels safer when he has assurance that the things he can hear out there are alive and nameable and able to be handled with a flyswatter.

The second thing he notices is that it’s unseasonably warm.

A quick assessment of Daichi’s surroundings answers why: sometime in the night, Oikawa has tucked himself up against Daichi’s chest, and Ushijima has wrapped an arm around them both. The electric blanket still running overtop of all three of them in such close proximity is making Daichi sweat.

He insists the heat is the only reason he's sweating suddenly. Despite the heat and the sweating, though, he allows himself to revel silently in the comfort of Ushijima’s and Oikawa’s bodies pressed up close against his. This feels safe, somehow. He feels protected between the two of them.

Outside the hollow tree, a branch snaps loudly, and Daichi sits bolt upright with his heart pounding.

“Where’s the fire?” Ushijima says immediately. Oikawa groans in irritation and tries to tug Daichi back down.

Daichi ignores them both, and stares in complete disbelief at… himself.

It’s almost like he's looking in a mirror. Outside the tree, in the new morning light, stands a near carbon copy of Daichi, right down to the borrowed Shiratorizawa jacket.

Of course, it’s not _quite_ him. There's something imperfect about the reflection as Daichi pushes Oikawa off to stand and look himself in the eye. The Other Him feels like a blank copy of the real thing, a shell with a different inside.

Other Daichi is holding the arrow from the night before, the one Oikawa shot the shadow thing with. He turns it over quizzically in his hand, and then takes notice of the real Daichi, inside the tree. He smiles, foxlike and knowing. Daichi shivers a little, but not out of fear. It's just uncanny to see such an expression on his own face. That's what he tells himself, as he makes the active decision to remain wary despite his gut reaction being more curiosity than concern.

Unsure if playing with the demon-killing arrow is supposed to show that Other Him is harmless or if it’s supposed to be a display of invulnerability, Daichi rises to his knees. He has no idea how he might begin to defend Oikawa and Ushijima from whatever danger this mirror him might hypothetically pose, but he’s at least going to stand in its way.

Just as Daichi’s beginning to grudgingly contemplate self-sacrifice for the greater good, Other Him smiles more gently, and then suddenly he isn't Daichi anymore. In his place is a red fox, arrow in its mouth, peering up at Daichi. There was no transformation, no anything. There was just the mirror-him, and now there's a fox, as if the frames between have been deleted.

Daichi boggles at the fox. The fox stares back, serene and unblinking. Its tail twitches.

“Foxes are the deity Inari’s familiars,” Ushijima mentions from behind him. “I think it’s safe.”

“Aren't the transforming ones trickster gods?” Oikawa counters. “Don't trust it.”

“Those ones have more tails, I thought,” says Ushijima. “I may be wrong. I have never seen one.”

To the fox, Daichi says, “You seem familiar.”

He isn't sure at first why he thinks so. But then it dawns on him: the thing he saw standing by Oikawa at the bus stop is _not_ the same thing that he tried to follow into the woods. The thing at the bus stop was what possessed him; he only felt its dizzying presence once Oikawa and Ushijima had shown up.

The figure he tried to follow into the woods had been…

“That was you,” he says, suddenly understanding.

The fox tips its head like it's nodding. Daichi hums softly.

“Sawacchi, you cannot be thinking of trusting that thing,” says Oikawa.

“Thinking about it,” Daichi replies. “Ushijima, by any chance is the shrine out here you and Tendou were looking for a shrine to Inari?”

“There is a significant possibility. There are hundreds of Inari shrines across Japan.”

The fox makes a soft snuffling sound, and steps forward to drop the arrow at the edge of the salt line surrounding the tree. It wags its tail. Daichi bites his lip and tries not to respond, although he can feel his resolve to be cautious wavering dangerously. The fox wags its tail again and whines, puppylike and entirely precious. And Daichi… Daichi is weak.

“We’re gonna follow it,” he decides, resisting the urge to bend down and pet the fox behind its adorable pointy ears. Oikawa groans in exasperation. That in and of itself is a reassurance, though. If Oikawa truly felt uneasy about trusting the fox spirit, he would make it very clear instead of begrudgingly going along with it.

With a deep breath, Daichi steps over the salt line and out of the hollow tree. The fox lets him get within a few short meters before bounding suddenly away and settling again near the edge of the clearing. Daichi follows it, and as soon as he gets close again it leaps away into the brush.

“Hold on,” Ushijima calls over his shoulder, and Daichi pauses before following the fox any further to give Ushijima time to haul Oikawa to his feet. Daichi’s eyebrows knit together in concern; Oikawa is still injured. It won’t be an easy morning. Oikawa’s belligerent about accepting Ushijima’s assistance, elbowing Ushijima in the side and scowling as Ushijima picks him easily off the forest floor.

“I got him,” Daichi says, immediately returning to the tree and taking up position on Oikawa’s other side, so his arms are draped over both Daichi and Ushijima’s shoulders.

“This is very unbalanced,” Ushijima points out. “It would be easier for me to carry him alone.”

“Your forest friend is making a run for it,” adds Oikawa, and Daichi looks up to see the fox trotting pleasantly off into the woods.

“Then let’s get moving.” Daichi nods, and the three of them start moving. It’s not easy going; it’s like trying to run a three legged race and an obstacle course at the same time. Ushijima trips over a root as they follow the fox through the trees and nearly brings all three of them tumbling to the ground. After that, he and Daichi take turns supporting Oikawa, who turns out to be equally belligerent about being assisted with both of them and just wants to be left alone.

“Fine, limp your way after us,” says Daichi, depositing Oikawa gently atop a large rock. The fox skitters on ahead, even deeper into the woods. “Or you can sit here and wait for us to come back.

“Don’t just leave me here!” Oikawa tugs petulantly on Daichi’s belt loops.

“Then don’t whine about us helping.”

Eventually Oikawa acquiesces to Ushijima carrying him on his back, if only because it means he can poke him in the face and deliver obnoxious commentary at point-blank range, while Daichi tails the fox deeper into the forest.

It’s quieter, this far into the woods. The sun is certainly up by now, but it barely filters through the thick canopy of leaves above them. The trees are closer together, and thicker with age. This part of the forest is _old_ , and Daichi can almost feel it. There’s an atmosphere here of contemplativeness, almost. Of peace, even. Daichi gets the feeling this is somewhere that hasn’t seen human beings in a _very_ long time.

“I feel like we’re trespassing,” Ushijima murmurs, and Daichi nods in agreement. It feels like they’ve crossed a threshold into a different world, a more natural era. It’s not that they don’t belong here, but it feels somehow that this is a privilege to be here.

The fox is waiting for them at the rise of a hill up ahead. Daichi hadn’t realized they’d slowed down so much. He gestures for Ushijima to hurry up, and they push forward up the hill. The fox doesn’t bound ahead, even when they get close enough that its twitching tail brushes the edge of Daichi’s jeans.

At the top of the rise, looking down into the forest below, they finally see the shrine. Not fifty feet away is a torii gate, once red, now covered in leaves and vines and spiderwebs. To either side of the gate, atop stone pillars, are carved fox statues, ancient and coated in moss. Just beyond it lies the shrine itself, equally claimed by the forest growth but clearly once quite elegant. It’s not a _grand_ shrine, not like the monumental Fushimi Inari shrine in Kyoto that Daichi remembers visiting on a middle school class trip, but the air here feels the same: Quiet, clear, peaceful and safe.

On the wooden porch that rings the shrine, fast asleep just at the top of the stairs, is Tendou Satori, curled up in a pile of red foxes.

Ushijima sets Oikawa down and Daichi immediately puts out an arm for him to brace himself against as Ushijima practically runs down to the shrine. Daichi and Oikawa both breathe a huge sigh of relief as he makes it to the front of the shrine and kneels down before his friend, runs a hand gently through Tendou’s hair.

“Jeez, thank god,” says Oikawa. Daichi smiles teasingly at him. “What? It’s not like I care about his feelings. I’m just glad that something good came of all the shit we went through last night.”

“Don’t blaspheme,” Daichi chides. Oikawa snorts out a laugh. “No, I’m serious. This is a holy place. Can’t you tell?”

Oikawa takes a deep breath and steadies himself against Daichi’s shoulder. “Yeah, I can. It’s special here.”

The fox that led them to the shrine winds its way through Daichi’s and Oikawa’s legs before bounding down through the torii gate and joining its friends on the porch of the shrine with Ushijima and Tendou, who’s just woken up and is currently trying not to suffocate in Ushijima’s embrace.

“Shall we go down?” Daichi suggests. Before Oikawa can scoff at him or say something like _why would I wanna hang around with wild animals and Shiratorizawa players_ , Daichi takes advantage of the fact that Oikawa has to use him for balance to lead them both down the hill and through the shrine gate.

As soon as they reach the steps of the shrine, Ushijima releases Tendou and rushes down to embrace the pair of them instead. Oikawa lets out an undignified squeak. Daichi finds his face pressed firmly into Ushijima’s neck and is not at all upset about the experience.

“Yo, Wakatoshi, are these the only volunteers you could get?” Tendou cackles from his pile of foxes. “Imma have to stick it to the team later for being a bunch of scaredy cats. Man, not even Tsutomu-kun wanted to come?”

“Goshiki is under house arrest. I did not want him getting hurt,” he tells Tendou. To Daichi and Oikawa, he says, “Thank you, honestly. This means so much.”

Oikawa, true to form, huffs in irritation. Being thanked by Ushijima doesn’t sit well with his yet-retained grudge. Daichi pats Ushijima on the back and then loops his own arms around Ushijima and Oikawa. “Anytime, buddy.”

“ _Never_ again,” Oikawa insists, but his cartoonishly exaggerated pout and the fact that he hasn’t shoved Ushijima away yet tells Daichi he doesn’t _completely_ regret the experience. At least not all the parts of it.

“We’ll just have to come better prepared.”

“ _Never_.”

 

   

Iwaizumi Hajime meets the four of them at the gates of Shiratorizawa in a beat-up used Toyota with many a strongly-worded bumper sticker affixed to the back. While Ushijima escorts Tendou back to the dorms to assure the rest of the team that he’s alright, Daichi helps Oikawa into the front seat of Iwaizumi’s car.

“I don’t want to know what the hell all of this was about,” is the first thing out of Iwaizumi’s mouth.

“I shot a demon in the head!” is the first thing out of Oikawa’s, right over the tail end of Iwaizumi’s sentence. Iwaizumi boggles at him for a solid minute before shaking his head slowly.

“This better be good, man. You made me drive all the way out _here_.”

“I swear it’s the best news you’ve heard in years.”

Iwaizumi ruffles Oikawa’s hair and puts the car in drive with a fond smile threatening to crack through his irritated poker face.

“Wait, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa insists, and reopens the car door to beckon Daichi over. Daichi approaches and leans on the roof of the car as Oikawa smirks up at him. “Get down here, you,” he tells Daichi. Warily, Daichi leans down until he’s eye-level with Oikawa, whose smirk grows wider and wider until he finally stops Daichi with a hand on his shoulder. “Seeya later, Sawacchi,” he says, and blows Daichi a kiss at point blank range. Daichi’s breath hitches a little bit. He’s positive Oikawa notices, if the further widening of his already ridiculous smirk is any indication. He’s not sure he minds, though. He thinks he might like it if Oikawa notices him blushing this time.

“Gross,” Iwaizumi teases. The raised-eyebrow half smile he throws Daichi over Oikawa’s shoulder does not say _gross._ It says _I will beat your ass if you hurt him, but also I approve_. Daichi does his best to return a look that properly displays determination and honest intentions.

“I’ll make sure to give your regards to Ushijima too,” Daichi jokes, flashing a grin at Oikawa, who crosses his arms in indignation.

“Sawacchi, you jerk. Go ahead, ruin your chances at a _real_ kiss.”

“Oh, was there an offer for that on the table?”

Oikawa sputters in embarrassment, as if he wasn’t the one to suggest a kiss in the first place, and Daichi smiles as he shuts the car door, and Iwaizumi laughs as he pulls out of the parking lot. As they drive away, Daichi can see Oikawa talking animatedly, likely telling the whole surreal story to his best friend. Daichi feels a swell of fondness in his heart for the mercurial captain of Aoba Johsai.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder, and Daichi startles a bit. He relaxes immediately when he realizes it’s Ushijima, though.

“Do you need to be walked to the bus stop?” Ushijima asks.

“I think I can make it on my own.”

“Oh.” Ushijima looks a little bit crestfallen.

“But you may come with me, if you’d like,” Daichi backpedals immediately. Ushijima smiles brightly, and Daichi smiles back.

If Ushijima’s walking just slightly closer to him than normal friends might, Daichi doesn’t say anything about it. They reach the bus stop disappointingly fast. Daichi gazes back at Shiratorizawa’s campus in awe; it feels far longer ago than just yesterday evening that he’d gotten off the bus here with a sense of foreboding in his veins. It feels like a completely different place now.

“I will wait until the bus arrives with you,” Ushijima offers. “I have nothing else on my schedule.”

“Thanks.”

“Sawamura?”

“Yeah?”

Ushijima fidgets uncomfortably. He opens his mouth to speak but changes his mind enough times that Daichi starts to wonder if he’s attempting some kind of confession. A confession of what, though, he becomes more and more unsure the longer it takes Ushijima to get the words out.

Eventually, he says, “The shadow spirit that Oikawa shot. That was the same one that’s been following him for awhile now? And the same one that possessed you.”

Oh. Daichi nods. “That’s the impression I got, yes.”

“And the figure you saw entering the woods before we arrived was the fox spirit that led us to the shrine.”

“Yes.”

“Right.” Ushijima pauses to nod to himself, lips pursed in consternation. “Then… whatever took Satori to start with… and the uh. The hand that put out my lantern. Which were they?”

“Y’know,” Daichi says, firmly rejecting the dread creeping up his back, “I don’t know if I want that answered.”

“Right, me neither,” Ushijima agrees. “Glad we are on the same page.”

Eventually, after another moment of inevitable silence that Daichi isn’t sure how to fill, the bus chugs its way over the horizon. “Well, that’s my cue,” says Daichi, nodding in the direction of the bus.

“So it seems.” Ushijima nods back. “Sawamura-”

“We’ll see each other again sometime?”

Ushijima hesitates, startled out of whatever he was going to say. Daichi feels bad for having interrupted him. But then his expression softens, and he pulls Daichi in for an exceedingly gentle hug. Daichi immediately relaxes against him with a sigh, and his heart flutters a little as Ushijima rests a cheek against the top of his head.

“Have a good day,” he tells Daichi as they separate, just in time for the bus to pull to a stop. “We will see each other again.”

 

   

Three hours later finds Daichi on the floor of Suga’s room, face down in a pillow while Suga cackles at him from the futon.

“I’m sorry,” Suga gasps through his laughter, “But you gotta admit, it _is_ a pretty funny situation. You of all people on a _ghost hunt_ with _Oikawa Tooru_  and _Ushijima Wakatoshi_ . You, who refuses to believe in ghosts, with two rival captains, and you come out of it swearing up and down that ghosts exist. And on top of that, you fall for _both_ Oikawa and Ushijima. It’s pretty unbelievable.”

“Yes, make fun of me more, you know I love it,” Daichi deadpans.

“I’m kinkshaming.”

“What do I do _now_?”

“Ask them out?”

“I hope you mean the boys and not the ghosts.”

 

   

Daichi does not ask them out. Not directly, anyway. But he does, through a series of what can only be called Madcap Antics with his first years, manage to get his hands on both Oikawa and Ushijima’s phone numbers and group message them an idea he had. Said idea finds the three of them and a bottle of sake, procured by Ushijima from god-knows-where, meeting up again at Shiratorizawa the next Saturday at noon.

Without exchanging more than a few greetings and a little small talk, the trio makes their way back into the woods. Despite the time of day being different and their lack of a guide, it’s not difficult to find their way back to the shrine. Daichi just kind of gets a feeling he knows where he’s going. He wonders if Oikawa and Ushijima are experiencing something similar.

The shrine sits, serene as they left it, deep in the woods. The air is quiet and cool, like it was expecting them.

The three of them pass through the torii gate together, none of them speaking. There’s no running water to ritually wash their hands with before praying at the shrine, so Daichi pulls out a water bottle and they pass it between the three of them instead. Ushijima sets the sake bottle on the porch, just in front of the doors, as an offering. The three of them bow their heads twice, clap twice in unison, and then bow once more. With his head bowed and his eyes shut, Daichi’s not sure what type of prayer he should necessarily offer, at a shrine that hasn’t been taken care of in decades, to a god that might not even be there to listen.

“Thank you,” Ushijima says aloud, next to him. He feels Ushijima’s hand slip into his. At this point, he’s made the active decision to not get worked up about it – although his traitorously blushing face might disagree with that – and instead of freaking out he reaches out to the other side to take Oikawa’s hand as well.

Oikawa freaks out and fidgets a little, but he doesn’t pull away. He squeezes Daichi’s hand, and Daichi squeezes it back.

When Daichi raises his head and opens his eyes, the sake bottle is gone. He isn’t sure he’s surprised.

“That’s spooky,” Oikawa whispers next to him, staring at the empty place where the sake bottle once was.

“That’s fantastic,” Ushijima adds, and Daichi assumes he means it in the literal sense of the word, as _fantastical_ , unreal.

“That’s _something_ , alright,” Daichi finishes. Then he shakes his head and amends: “Okay, honestly. That’s unbelievable.” He blinks, and there’s suddenly a fox where the sake once was. The three of them stare at it, and it stares back, looking for all the world like it’s grinning, like it’s hiding a secret from the three of them.

 _That’s magic,_ Daichi thinks he hears in the rustle of the trees above, but he can’t quite be sure. He thinks that’s probably for the better that he never find out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yknow, I considered a version of this with the Tokyo captains. But immediately upon consideration I realized the only way it could play out would be like an episode of Ghost Hunters International gone horribly wrong, starting with Kuroo in fuckin night vision goggles and Bokuto deadass refusing to come along, and end with Daishou literally getting eaten or something. It would be a mess.
> 
> Anyway, the Midnight Game is a real creepypasta, if you wanna look it up. I didn't know this until I went searching for a title, and it matched too uncannily to what I'd written, so I had to work it in.
> 
> hmu if you wanna yell  
> [tumblr](natroze.tumblr.com) || twitter  
> 


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